


hiding in plain sight

by OfSpideRs_aNdRiddLes



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Pre-Slash, artist!Eli, cheno ships it, faro ships it, inconvenient calls, oblivious idiots, slight spoilers for Thrawn: Treason, space brandy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:22:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26006401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfSpideRs_aNdRiddLes/pseuds/OfSpideRs_aNdRiddLes
Summary: painting has always been an outlet for Eli, but when he transfers to Royal Imperial on Coruscant, his painting hobby seems to stop. until, that is, he starts getting commissioned by all of his commanding officers at some point or another.that is, on the condition that Thrawn doesn't find out.
Relationships: Karyn Faro & Eli Vanto, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo/Eli Vanto
Comments: 67
Kudos: 155





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey!! this is my first work in this tag, i hope you guys like it!

Painting was something Eli Vanto had been doing for as long as he could remember. A benefit of the Academy he was attending on Myomar was that he had more than enough spare time to indulge his therapeutic hobby. It was the second thing on his mind when he was informed of his reassignment to become the aide to Mitth’raw’nuruodo at the Royal Imperial Academy on Coruscant. First off, he worried how he would work to fit in, being from Wild Space, and thus at a disadvantage for meandering Imperial society. Next, he worried if he would ever be able to make time again to paint. It wasn’t something he felt comfortable doing in front of others. It was personal, liberating. Captain Parck had pulled him aside after the man had gathered his things from his quarters, worried about the cadet. 

“What do you want to do about these?” he gestured a small stack of canvases, about half a dozen or so paintings of various landscapes he had seen and committed to memory then into acrylic.

“Chuck ‘em.” Eli huffed, a last mourning gaze sweeping over the innocent paintings, not wanting to acknowledge the hours and hours he had spent on them collectively. 

“Damn, kid. That was blunt.”

“Should I not be? I’ll have no need for them where I’m going. Just throw them out the airlock.” The words were meant to hold venom, but all he felt was a pang of sadness at having to part ways with them. 

“Could I buy them off of you? The last one I got, well, the wife loves it. I’m sure she would appreciate a few more.”

“Just take them, Captain.”

He didn’t leave room for debate, instead nodding to the older man, before picking up the rest of his bags and striding out of the room for the last time. There was a sense of a bitter finality to how he held his lips pressed in a line, how he refused to meet the pitying eyes thrown his way. 

Here goes nothing.

* * *

Of  _ course _ he was stationed to the  _ Blood Crow. _ And  _ of course _ he would spend the next however long part of his life glued to the alien’s side. He had grown to appreciate the man as a roommate, and his only friend at the Royal Imperial, both of them having the disadvantage of being from areas too far from Coruscant to satisfy even casual friendships. But that didn’t make him want to spend his entire Imperial career on whatever track Thrawn wanted him to follow the man on. 

A good thing to come out of this, however, was that he had space to paint now, away from prying red eyes. Because,  _ of course _ the Chiss he used to room with was fascinated by artwork. He didn’t enjoy how Thrawn seemed to quietly pride himself on being able to dissect every detail from a piece, and interpret the piece as a whole as a way to further understand the species or groups that made the work. That didn’t mean that he couldn’t appreciate the genius of the man, just that his perspective of him was muddied by anxiety. He had a few nightmares during their time as cadets, in them Thrawn had found some of the paintings that he told Parck to dispose of, and had cornered him about them, demanding information. He squirmed just thinking about that hypothetical.

Captain Virgilio turned out to be a friend of Parck’s, and he had slyly suggested Eli paint something for him. It was a simple request, really, just a landscape of Coruscant’s skyline at dusk. He had finished it within two weeks of when the Captain suggested it, and he felt a small swell of pride when the Captain stared at it, dumbfounded, when he had presented it under the guise of a report. He accepted the minimum of credits to purchase more supplies on his next leave, but it took a good half hour of Virgilio fawning over the painting -- even threatening to hang it in the commons -- before Eli conceded and accepted the four hundred credits. Only on the terms that Virgilio would limit the painting’s presence to his own rooms, and not in the sight of the majority of the crew. 

“Thank you, Ensign. It is, truely, a masterpiece.” Eli’s face was uncomfortably red, and he could only look at the floor, anywhere but Virgilio’s general vicinity. “Has Thrawn seen this? I’m sure he’d go  _ nuts _ to get his hands on it.”

“No!” Eli barely restrained the yelp of alarm. “No, he, uh, this didn’t happen. Please, sir.”

“Ah,” Virgilio’s eyes twinkled knowingly, “command secret, then? I  _ will _ be showing this to Parck, though. I have a feeling I won this round with him.” 

Eli wasn’t completely sure about what the Captain was referring to, but he hightailed it out of there as soon as Virgilio remembered to dismiss him.

Luckily enough for him, the first few days that Rossi came into command of the  _ Blood Crow,  _ she was so preoccupied with Thrawn’s collection of artefacts in the space that Virgilio had set aside for his hobby that Eli had dared to think that she would be his first commanding officer since joining the Empire to not know or care about his own hobby. 

Unfortunately, this was not the case. She summoned him to her office one day, and he braced himself for more grilling about Thrawn’s odd habits.

“Ensign Vanto.”

“Captain.”

She poured herself three fingers of a dark liquor that sat on her desk in a crystal decanter. 

“I’ve been talking with Parck about your blue friend. Although,” she sat forwards, taking a sip of her drink, eyes boring into Eli’s. “He wasn’t so interested in the man as he was in you. Any idea of why that is?”

“Ma’am?” Eli stammered, trying to discern if she was pulling at any threads that would damn him, beyond being from Wild Space, in the eyes of the Empire.

“I’ll have you know I’m rather good friends with his wife.”  _ So  _ that’s _ where this is going. _ “And it’s her birthday coming up, and for the first time in a few years, I have a rare opportunity to show Parck up on the occasion. Because now I have  _ you _ at my disposal.”

“Are you -- is this a commission? Ma’am,” he added hastily, relief flooding to his head.

“Indeed, Ensign. Have you ever been to Scarif?”

“I can’t say I have, Captain.”

“Shame. Well, at least I have a holophoto to show you. I’d like for you to paint this for me.”

The picture she pulled up on her monitor was beautiful, Eli would give her that. But he hadn’t ever been so directly commissioned. 

“What’s the timeframe?”

“Week or so. I’ll book irregular meetings with you so your schedule is busy, but if you could take that time to work, I would be grateful.”

Bemused, Eli bade her goodbye, holophoto on his datapad as he walked back to his quarters, setting up a new canvas. 

There were a few close calls, where Thrawn or another coworker would knock on his door, causing him to panic and almost throw the canvas out of sight before he answered the door. But it got done, and within a week. He wasn’t sure Rossi would ever  _ like _ him, but she tolerated him. She even smiled when he presented the painting to her. He had rushed out of her office then, late for a departing shuttle to go investigate some ship with tibanna gas, but he heard his datapad chirp, and the notification of a deposit into his account, a quick  _ ‘good work, Ensign.’ _ noted on it. He missed a breath when he saw that she had given him one hundred credits for it. He wasn’t expecting even  _ fifty. _

* * *

He felt he should  _ really, really _ stop being surprised at how many almost-court marshals Thrawn managed to garner, but nevertheless, it was still exhausting. 

Cheno was another on the surprisingly extensive list of commanding officers who had ‘stumbled’ upon Eli’s hobby. Cheno was good at being quiet about it, and in return, Eli gave him the pick of his paintings when he finished them. Cheno now had four, two in his private quarters, one in his office, and one, Eli noted with discomfort, in an undisclosed location. To Eli’s chagrin, Cheno was  _ delighted _ that the “Thrawn Must Not Know” rule was still very much in practice. He had laughingly confided that it was half of his appeal in acquiring Eli’s paintings initially. Every one of the officers had  _ some _ degree of smugness about being privy to something Thrawn would undoubtedly be interested in, but was denied knowledge of. There was a running game, not that Vanto knew of it, amongst the officers boasting paintings, where the objective was to display a work of Eli’s in the most enticingly public place without Thrawn being able to see it. So far, none of them had been commented on. 

“You wished to see me, sir?”

“Ah, Thrawn, come in.” Cheno gestured to the chair in front of him, the Chiss gracefully settled himself in it.

“I have no doubts that you are confused as to my retirement. But this is not the focus of our conversation. I have many personal items, many of which are as much a part of the ship as the ship itself. So, I wanted to ask if you would… watch over them for me. I know,” he held up a hand to signal for silence, Thrawn’s mouth barely opening to speak, “that this is an unusual request. But think of it more as a gift. I have noted that your appreciation of art has proven useful time and time again, so I wish to leave you with one of my favourite pieces.”

“Sir?” Thrawn’s confusion was barely discernible from his interest. 

“Please, Thrawn. I have many others, and I’ve grown to appreciate your talents, as peculiar and fitting as they are. And something tells me you would enjoy this artist’s work.”

Cheno reached under his desk, pulling out a frame approximately half a metre long and ten centimetres tall. Thrawn peered with unabashed intrigue at the painting as it was passed to him.

What struck him first were the colours. Soft purples, quiet yellows, and a touch of blue that created what almost looked like dawn through an iceberg, the hints of mountains far away behind it. There was something serene about the moment caught in paint: looking at it, he could feel the echo of calmed apprehension, as if the artist were stood on the edge of a precipice, testing their will. Everything was slightly blurred, as if he were waking from a dream, but the way the brush strokes carried - this must be a stylistic choice, however subconscious, of the artist. The painting had an air of timelessness, but this was betrayed by the taut canvas, and the crisp scent of acrylic paint. 

“Do you like it?” Cheno asked, eyes lit with an excitement Thrawn was too preoccupied to note. 

“It is exquisite.”

“Oh, I  _ knew  _ you’d think so. The artist is a casual acquaintance of mine, so I don’t know much about him. But, I have others of his works, so I’m not broken up about parting ways with this one. It’s too melancholy for me.”

“Would I happen to know this artist?”

“I’m not sure anybody really does, but I wouldn’t be surprised if you did.”

Thrawn hummed, not fully paying attention. 

“May I see the other pieces you have from him?”

Cheno chuckled. “I’m afraid they’ve already been packed away. Maybe I will send you pictures of them when I get home.”

“That would be generous of you. May I have his name?”

“Ah ah,” Cheno chided, “trade secret. And, you’re clever. So it shouldn’t be too hard.”

Turns out, it  _ wasn’t _ as easy as Cheno had led him to believe. Thrawn had found himself gazing at the painting whenever he had a spare moment. It was as if the artist was speaking to him, but this time, it was different. The pieces he kept, holophoto or not, all spoke to him, but not quite like this. Something about it was familiar, but it eluded him. He wasn’t frustrated in his impasse, rather enjoying the challenge. He could tell that the painter had some sort of emotional association with colours deeper than a tool in his works. 

The lack of a signature, however, was slightly frustrating.

But, he had other work to do. So for now, he would file the painting away until a later time. 

* * *

That “later time” was when Thrawn was getting himself settled into his new office. He was able to display his favourite pieces on the walls around his desk, with the gift from Cheno directly across from his desk, where it wouldn’t be easily seen from the door. He figured it was the mystery of the painting that drew him to put it there, still on display, but less available for others to see. It was to be mostly ‘his’ until he figured it out. 

He had been taking meetings via holocall for the past four hours, and his few breaks were overridden by questions and reports brought to him by his higher-level officers. Not that he particularly minded, in fact, he enjoyed their input, found the discussions stimulating. 

He had just finished his conversation with Yularen, and when nobody came to his office within a minute, he rolled his shoulders, and walked across the room to the painting from Cheno. 

He scoured it for clues about the artist. If he had another of his works, he could probably start to glean more information about him. What inferences he would try to make were halted by a buzzing at his door. He stepped back to his desk, sitting down and pulling up his dashboard on the monitor before accepting the request.

“Lieutenant,” he greeted, observing the man in the doorway.

“Sir. I have more of the information you requested on the doonium mines surrounding the secondary trade routes through sectors P, Q, and S. should I leave it here, or would you prefer I stay in case you have questions?”

Vanto cringed at the last few words, his face lighting up in the infrared just a bit. Thrawn could sense the man was as busy as he was, so he waved at his desk as he returned his attention to his monitor. Vanto crossed the room and deposited the datapad on the open corner, lining the edges up instinctively. 

“Anything else, sir?”

“That will be all, thank you, Vanto.”

Vanto nodded, before turning to exit the room. Out of his periphery, Thrawn was aware of how the man stalled, catching sight of the lone painting on the far end of the room.

“Is, is this one new, sir?” he stammered. Thrawn looked up, focusing on the painting as much as he was on Vanto.

“It is indeed. Cheno was willing to part with it on his way into retirement. He was correct in assuming that I would enjoy it.”

“Uh huh.” Vanto mumbled, eyes glued to the piece. “Did he say who the artist was?”

“No,” Thrawn frowned, returning his attention to the painting, coming to stand next to Vanto when he moved from behind his desk. “And a rather unfortunate thing, I admire his artistry.”

“‘His’?” 

“Cheno did reveal the pronoun of the artist when he gave it to me. He did not, however, reveal a name, nor a place of origin, but I suspect they are from outside of Coruscanti customs.”

“I’m guessing you found that somewhere in the painting?”

“Yes, in fact, it is revealed through the ambiguity of the scene. Coruscanti customs tend to favour abstract art, or art deco styles, in their displayed scenes. But this one, as you can tell here,” he gestured to the side of the painting, “one may see that they favour the colours as a way to convey shapes, rather than lines. This is not typical of Core system artists.”

“Why would you compare it to Core World artists, if you’ve already decided it’s not from one?”

Thrawn let a small smile tug at the corners of his lips. “Cheno has many connections, almost all human, and he grew up on Coruscant, from what I can tell. It would be incredibly likely that he knew an artist that could paint for him from Coruscant, but, given these clues and the deviation from the norms, it is more likely that the painter is not from the Core Worlds.”

Vanto chewed the inside of his cheek, perhaps in thought. “How would you know this isn’t a one-time stylistic choice?”

“An intriguing question, Vanto. However, given the refined technique, it is unlikely that this is not the artist’s main style. There would have been slight deviations from it in key areas should that have been the case, but it is not. I welcome any insight you may have on the accuracy of my claims.”

Vanto was silent for a few moments, both men wrapped in their thoughts as they looked on. It was Vanto who broke the silence.

“Excuse me, sir, I have some other things that need my attention.”

“Dismissed, Vanto. Thank you, for humoring me.”

Eli deadlocked his quarters when he returned from Thrawn’s office. He could hear his heart thundering in his skull, amazed that his breathing remained mostly steady. He keyed in a contact request into his comm.

_ “This is Alfren.” _

“Sir, I have a  _ pressing _ question-”

_ “Oh, hey kid. How’s the art coming along?” _

Eli had to bite his lip to stifle the building panic in his chest. 

“Well, sir-”

_ “It’s Cheno or Alfren, Vanto. I’m  _ retired, _ remember?” _

“Sorry sir-- Cheno. But, I was just visiting Thrawn’s office, and I noticed that he had one of my paintings? Hung right across from his desk? He said it was a gift from you and that you didn’t reveal a name, but-- what’s so funny?”

The sound of somewhat-staticky laughter filled the room as Eli stared at his comm.  _ “Oh man, he hasn’t figured it out yet? This is hilarious!” _

“With all due respect, sir, this isn’t funny.”

_ “It is. Wait till Parck finds out-” _

“What am I supposed to do? He can tell when I’m lying. I barely avoided an entire discussion on it just now.”

_ “Well, he has no reason to suspect you. Plus, if you think about it, it’s a prime opportunity to show him up. Keep painting, send them to me. I’ll pay you double if you let me send them to him as a proxy.” _

Eli pinched the bridge of his nose. How could Cheno so casually suggest he shove his artwork under Thrawn’s nose? He didn’t need the Chiss ripping through his work for details about his emotional state. 

But, Cheno usually paid him quite nicely. And if he was willing to pay  _ double… _

“Fine,” he grit out, “but you tell him  _ nothing.” _

_ “Sounds great! Could I have one shipped next week?” _

Eli decided to indulge how petty he was feeling, and ended the conversation with a vigorously pressed button. He slumped on his desk, head landing on his arms with a groan. 

True to his word, Eli had the next painting shipped within the week, when they were planetside on Coruscant. Days later, he received some eight hundred credits in his account, with a label of  _ “personal services” _ on the transaction that left him feeling like he was some escort Cheno had hired out. Especially because the account Cheno used had a disproportionate ratio of numbers to letters as the tag. 

This one was different. In most of his paintings, he preferred to keep the focus the geography, but for this one, it was a somewhat-crowded sidewalk. Most of the painting was layers of people bustling about their own business, mostly human, with a few droids. The rest of it was a daytime sky on Coruscant. The background was more inspired by the idea of screwing with Thrawn’s perception of the mystery artist than anything else. He did note that Thrawn’s conclusion of the artistic style being purposely out of focus was something he did. He noticed it when it was pointed out to him, and it did surprise him because it was never something he did consciously. 

The newest painting carried his emotions from the week following Thrawn’s vocalised observations. The faded brown tones of safety, the crisp greys of obligation. A sky coloured with hope and intrigue, and the haziest of greens to suggest his new commanding thought train. 

He began making new paintings for Cheno on the regular, often starting them late at night. Barely a month after Cheno commissioned him, Eli had sent him four paintings, with the fifth underway. He was starting to pour everything he had into the artworks.

And, just maybe, he was showing off a bit to see how Thrawn reacted. 

Then there was also his more fine-tuned attention to patterns in data, something that would not typically be a trait of the kind of artist Thrawn was looking for. So as long as Thrawn didn’t ask him specifically if he knew the artist, he should be able to find creative half-truths to avoid his face lighting up as he tried to lie.

The night cycle on the  _ Chimera _ was just beginning when Eli sat down in front of a new canvas. As always, he let his hands and eyes go on autopilot, allowing for his mind to wander and ponder other things. People seemed to be a frequent new addition to his paintings, and in this one, he vaguely recognised a gathering during Ascension Week. One of the many exhausting parties that Thrawn had been invited to, and Eli required to attend. He remembered the high ceilings with tall windows overlooking the city. He remembered the sheer amount of people in attendance, the intimate location offsetting the crowd, the mixture of elegant clothing and Imperial uniforms. The lights, warmer and more forgiving than the light cycles on Imperial ships. 

It was fifteen minutes until his shift started that Eli finally looked up to see he no longer had time to sleep. He blinked a few times, his eyes stinging with fatigue. Hastily, he changed into a new uniform, brushing his teeth before walking quickly to his station. Faro raised an eyebrow at his arrival, but made no comment. 

The data strings in front of him seemed to swim ever so slightly to the left. He pinched the skin between his fingers until the lines cooperated, and went back to his analysis. He mentally slapped himself for forgetting to grab a caf or something before he made it to his shift. He had pulled all-nighters before, but usually had the foresight to set an alarm so he had at least one hour of sleep. He only had another six hours to go, though, so he figured he would be fine. 

He was four hours into his shift when Thrawn walked over to his station. He leaned over Vanto’s shoulder, peering at the stretch of numbers. Noticing that the man hadn’t looked up, he glanced to his face. The circles underneath his eyes marred his dark complexion, a sign Thrawn had learned was common when humans were behind on a normal sleep cycle. He glanced up at the clock, noticing that there were still three hours in Vanto’s shift, so he decided to let him be for the time being. 

Five minutes later, Thrawn returned to Vanto’s desk. Noting the brightness of his eyes in the infrared, he knew his decision to grab the man a caf was warranted. Setting it on his desk, Thrawn returned to his other occupations as Vanto looked down at the caf, expression for once, unreadable. By the time Thrawn had walked over to Faro, he received a message on his datapad. 

_ Received Message: LtCdr EVanto - “Thank you.” _

Red eyes flicked back to the general direction of Vanto’s station. 

_ Sent Message: ADM Thrawn - “You are welcome.” _

* * *

After his shift, Eli collapsed into bed. He woke up three hours later to a soft  _ ping _ from his datapad. 

_ Received Message: ADM Thrawn - “I trust you have decided to get rest. When you are up, Cheno has sent me a new piece from our mystery artist. I would be grateful for your input.” _

Eli groaned, rubbing at his eyes. Damn the Chiss and their shortened sleep cycles. But, going back to sleep now would be useless. Plus, he wouldn’t be able to refuse Thrawn’s offer. Some of the words in the message stuck out, the ‘our’, and his invitation. He had sent Cheno multiple paintings since their conversation, and he was curious which one Thrawn had received. 

He sealed his jacket, and slipped his boots back on before heading to Thrawn’s office. 

The Chiss seemed slightly surprised at Eli’s arrival, not expecting him over so soon. Nevertheless, he stepped aside to allow the man entry. 

“I did not expect you to be awake for some hours, Lieutenant.”

“Me neither, but I’m a light sleeper.”

Thrawn regarded the shorter man. “I believe I remember this now with the benefit of hindsight. My apologies for waking you.”

Eli waved off the apology, eyes scanning the walls for a new painting. 

“‘S all good. Where’s the new piece?” 

Thrawn’s eyes gleamed, and he strode around to his desk, where he pulled out a package.

“You haven’t opened it?” 

“I wished to wait for you.”

Eli glanced at the Chiss. Thrawn quickly opened the package. Inside of the box was a wrapped canvas, with a small note, handwritten, on the top. Eli craned his neck to read it over Thrawn’s shoulder, Thrawn lifting the note so they could both read it.

_ Hey kid, how’s command? _

_ I might have over commissioned the artist, so expect these every now and then. _

_ Regards,  _

_ Alfren Cheno. _

“Huh.” Eli said, doing his best not to react. 

“Indeed,” Thrawn agreed, turning the card over to reveal a blank back. He set the paper to the side, before unwrapping the canvas. Eli’s view was slightly obstructed, but he didn’t miss the sharp intake of breath from the Chiss. He shot him a questioning look, but Thrawn’s eyes were fixed on the painting, so Eli turned his head to better see it. 

Cheno sent the second painting he had received from Eli. This one was based off of a memory from his first days on Coruscant, and how isolated he felt amongst so many people. 

“That’s… a lot of grey.” Eli broke the silence. 

“So it is,” Thrawn mused, holding the painting up closer to his eyes. 

“You do know it’s unlikely the painter could see infrared, let alone paint with it, right?” Thrawn’s mouth quirked into a smile, eyes darting over to Eli before returning to the painting in his hands. 

“I am looking for a signature.”

Eli frowned. “Doesn’t this guy not  _ do _ signatures? The other one doesn’t have one…” he yawned, wincing as he tried to fend it off. 

Thrawn motioned for Eli to follow him to the small settee against the wall perpendicular to his desk. Eli slumped down onto the seat, while Thrawn more gracefully lowered himself next to the man, hooking his leg over his knee.

“You’re right, there is a lack of signature here as well. But, the style is the same,” he indicated a few points with his index finger, “and the approach to colour is as well. So, in a sense, the uniqueness of the style is his signature. But, you are right about the grey tones.”

Eli tilted his head, doing his best to keep himself awake enough to process the conversation. Excluding his nap, he had been awake for almost thirty five hours. 

“It’s not all grey though,” Eli pointed to the top of the canvas, where the brown and bronzes of the Coruscanti skyscrapers glimmered in evening light. “It’s in colour here, but not near the people.”

Thrawn smiled, appreciative of Eli’s interest in the conversation, despite his obvious fatigue.

“I believe that the painter felt out of place here, reaffirming my hypothesis that he was not from the Core Worlds. The people are dressed more formally than they would have been on a daily, indicative of an unfamiliarity with affluence. Our artist is using the colours to communicate that he felt they stole the joy, or the wonder, from his surroundings because of this distance.”

Thrawn lapsed into silence, eyes tracing the strokes of paint. He stiffened when something hit his shoulder. Glancing to the side, he could see that Vanto had fallen asleep at some point, and in his unconsciousness, slumped sideways. Thrawn briefly entertained waking him, but given that he was responsible for his friend being awake in the first place, he decided to let him sleep. He turned his attention back to the canvas, doing his best to ignore the soft exhales.

For an hour, he remained undisturbed, Eli still sound asleep on him. Thrawn had lowered the sounds on his datapad, and was cross referencing some of the artist’s technique with Inner Rim styles, deciding to work from the Core outwards in his quest for answers. 

_ Received Message: Cmdre KFaro - “New reports for you. Need to be delivered in-person, files too large to send.” _

_ Sent Message: ADM Thrawn - “Thank you, Commodore. You may deliver them to my office, on the condition that you keep as close to silence as you can.” _

Thrawn hoped that Faro would heed his caution, but she had never done anything to prove she  _ wouldn’t. _ Still, Vanto needed to sleep, and moving him would prove to be difficult. Within a minute, a green light flashed by the door, signalling a request to enter. Thrawn accepted the request, and Faro walked in, question on her lips that died when she saw Vanto. Her eyes widened more than Thrawn had seen them do so before, and he raised a finger to his lips to remind her of his message. 

Faro nodded, fighting a smile as she quietly made her way across the room, placing the datapads on the desk before turning once again to face Thrawn. She raised an eyebrow, smirk on her face, as she pointed questioningly at Vanto. Thrawn narrowed his eyes, before motioning to his datapad. 

_ Received Message: Cmdre KFaro - “how long has he been asleep?” _

_ Sent Message: ADM Thrawn - “An hour. I believe that he did not sleep much last night, and it is my fault he woke up this time.” _

Faro’s eyebrows shot up as she read the message, flicking her eyes to Thrawn before shifting her weight, and typing out another message, fingers moving quickly.

_ Received Message: Cmdre KFaro - “you woke him up?” _

_ Sent Message: ADM Thrawn - “I received a new item for my collection, I wished to review it with Vanto. My incoming message must have woken him.” _

_ Received Message: Cmdre KFaro - “is this an attempt to justify screwing with the productivity of my workforce?” _

Thrawn shot her a glare, an eyebrow arching upwards.

_ Received Message: Cmdre KFaro - “joke. But, why is he asleep on you?” _

_ Sent Message: ADM Thrawn - “As I said before: we were reviewing the painting, and his lack of sleep caught up to him.” _

_ Received Message: Cmdre KFaro - “glad to hear that i’m not the only person you badger about art, but at least i don’t fall asleep on you.” _

_ Sent Message: ADM Thrawn - “I encourage open discussion of all sorts, not just about art.” _

_ Received Message: Cmdre KFaro - “what’s gonna happen when he wakes up?” _

Thrawn’s eyebrows knit together as he pondered that.

_ Sent Message: ADM Thrawn - “I presume he will return to his quarters.” _

_ Received Message: Cmdre KFaro - “ok so we’re playing this game.” _

Faro tilted her head, trying to provoke a reaction from her colleague. Thrawn did not rise to the bait.

_ Received Message: Cmdre KFaro - “just talk to him, for kriff’s sake.” _

_ Sent Message: ADM Thrawn - “Commodore, this is a secure server. For work.” _

_ Received Message: Cmdre KFaro - “Admiral. This has to do with my sanity.” _

Satisfied that she had the chance to chastise Thrawn from a distance where she could attempt to read his facial expressions, she smirked at him and turned to leave, tossing a wave over her shoulder. Thrawn grit his teeth, willing the excess blood to leave his face. 

Eli felt the crick in his neck before he woke up. He knew his bunk wasn’t uncomfortable, but this was pushing it. Perhaps he had fallen asleep on his desk again? Hopefully he hadn’t ended up covered in paint, that would be bad. Why was his ear warm?

Cracking an eye open, Eli grimaced as he was greeted with dim light, still too bright for his unadjusted eyes. He sat up slowly, rubbing at the stinging sensation behind his eyelids. The air was cooler than he usually had it set to, but he wasn’t cold. 

“Good evening, Lieutenant.”

Eli practically jumped at the sound of Thrawn’s voice so close to him. 

“My apologies for startling you. I didn’t want to wake you again. Forgive me if it was not the right course of action.”

Eli turned, seeing the faint red glow of the Chiss’s eyes and the dimmed light of a datapad in his lap.

“Oh, kriff, did I-?”

“It’s no worry, Vanto.”

Eli leaned forwards, putting his head in his hands. “I just fell asleep on my commanding officer.” he mumbled, trying to make sense of a literal nightmare come to life.

Thrawn huffed a sort of laugh. “I would hope it would be less distressing if you had fallen asleep on a friend, instead.”

Eli laughed shakily. “You’ve got a point there. Still, it’s been years since I’ve done that.”

“Fallen asleep? I can believe it.”

Eli swatted his arm. “Fallen asleep on  _ someone, _ idiot. Sir.”

“We’re off duty, you don’t need to do that.”

“Call me Eli, then, and I’ll stop with the ‘sir’, sir.”

Thrawn’s gaze unfocused as he retreated into his own thoughts.

“I don’t believe that I’ve done that before.”

They lapsed into silence. Eli could feel his face grow warm. 

“I-I should go. I should probably get some sleep.” he laughed nervously.

Thrawn merely nodded, still trapped somewhere else. Eli slipped out the door before he could say anything.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faro does not get paid enough for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok this one's shorter, but! i've decided to write at least four now, because i got carried away and excited about this!  
> thank you so much for the lovely comments!!

Eli shucked off his jacket when he got back to his quarters, distractedly tossing it over to his bunk, not caring that it hit the floor. Kicking off his boots, he sat down in his chair, tucking his feet up onto the chair, crossing his legs. He rubbed his face, trying to figure out what was going on with him. A sleepless night, a caf, falling asleep on  _ Thrawn, _ of all people. 

This wasn’t like him. Usually, he prided himself on being less of a mess than this. He  _ really _ needed to sleep. 

  


Next shift, he passed Faro on his way to his station, but something was amiss. She regarded him skeptically, and Eli quickly looked down to the floor. He had just pulled up his data for the metal shipments Thrawn had asked him to keep tabs on when Faro cleared her throat from behind him.

“Commodore,” he swallowed, “can I help you?”

Faro narrowed her eyes, glancing around the deck. “Let’s take a walk.”

Eli stood, rubbing his palms together to ground himself as he followed her, one step behind her and to the right. 

“Are you still doing commissions?” she asked quietly, even though the hallway was sparsely occupied. 

Eli couldn’t help the small sigh that escaped his lips. “Who told you? Was it Cheno?”

Faro smirked. “Actually, it was the paint on your knuckle. And the mystery paintings. I just put two and two together.”

Eli frowned, glancing at his hands. Now that he was actually looking, he saw the smudge of yellow paint on the top knuckle of his pinky finger. He rubbed at it, the dried paint rolling off in small clumps. 

“You haven’t… told anyone, have you?”

_ “Please,” _ Faro snorted, “this is fun. Plus, Cheno basically cheated-”

“‘Cheated’? At what?”

“The game,” Faro explained, watching Eli from the corner of her eye, “the officers who commissioned you have an ongoing game around the ‘No Thrawn’ rule.”

Eli felt the blood leave his face. “What?” he said quietly, trying not to let his emotions cloud his voice.

“Oh, don’t worry, it’s harmless. They’d hang the paintings in areas where people could see them, but  _ just _ out of the way from where Thrawn could see them. The goal was to have the painting in the most public place without Thrawn being able to comment on it.”

“Uh huh,” Eli mumbled, face now pink.

“So, yeah. Cheno cheated by giving Thrawn the paintings, but the game evolved into being who could hide your identity from him. And,” she smiled at him, “that’s where I come in.”

“Ma’am?”

“I’m having a meeting room repurposed into a lounge, and I want your art in it.”

Eli remained silent for the next few paces. 

“I don’t understand,” he ventured, not wanting to, but making himself look at her, however briefly.

“Vanto, I want your paintings for decoration. Just like anyone else who has commissioned you. Except for Cheno, I’m guessing that was for his own amusement.”

“Okay,” Eli breathed, “what’s my timeframe?”

“Well, how many paintings do you have on you right now?”

“I have three already reserved for Cheno, but besides that… eleven?”

_ “Eleven?” _ Faro laughed, “is this why you haven’t been sleeping?”

“ …Perhaps.”

“Nice. Let’s go get them set up.”

“But what about work-”

“This is work.”

  


After confirming that Thrawn was locked up in his office on a conference call, Faro and Eli exited his quarters, boxes of his paintings in their hands. Faro didn’t try to hide her amusement when she lead Eli to the meeting room barely two hallways away from Thrawn’s office. There wasn’t anyone inside, but the room had already been repurposed. Where the large table would have been, was now a plush carpet with various sofas and armchairs. Every few chairs, there would be a small table, lamps settled in the middle of them. Faro flicked on the overhead lights, which were a tad warmer than the regulation lights elsewhere. Eli appreciated the choice, it promoted a more laid-back attitude, yet still allowed for reading and clear vision. Faro deposited her box on the nearest table, motioning for him to do the same. 

“Right. So, I’m relatively inexperienced when it comes to decorating with art, so I’ll follow your lead here.”

“I’ve never actually hung paintings before.”

“Are you serious? Vanto, you crank these things out like crazy, and you’ve  _ never _ hung one up?”

Eli laughed nervously. “They usually just gather dust until someone takes them, or they go out an airlock.”

Faro froze, looking at him with her eyebrows raised, eyes unimpressed.

“Whatever, just stick them where they’re visible. And  _ not _ in the airlock. Thrawn would murder us if he knew art was being treated like that.”

Eli rolled his eyes, accepting a magnetic hook from Faro as he positioned a painting near the viewport. This was one of three Alderaanian landscapes he had painted. He hadn’t been there yet, but he wanted to at some point. For now, the holophotos would satisfy his desire to paint rolling hills he’d never seen. He frowned at himself when his mind drifted to wondering if Thrawn had been there. Of course he hadn’t, Eli had been stuck by him the entire time. 

He spaced the Alderaanian landscapes around the room, and let Faro adjust them to her liking. When they finished, around fifteen minutes later, Faro smiled at their work. 

“Alright, Vanto, back to real-people work. I have some messages to send. And thanks for your help.”

Eli nodded, and they walked back to their stations. 

  


There was an hour left in his shift when he received a broadcasted message.

_ Shipwide Announcement: Cmdre KFaro - “A new facility has been opened in Meeting Room MR-10.4. Similar facilities have been opened in MR-5.2, and MR-3.9 These spaces are to be used after shifts, and are available for all hours of the standard day cycle. Enjoy.” _

Eli’s knee bounced as he read the announcement. The other two-thirds of the crew wasn’t on duty right now, and because of this, the curiosity that would undoubtedly lead them to the lounges. Only one of which, MR-10.4, had Eli’s paintings in them. And because of how they were distanced, everyone on the bridge crew would likely be visiting that one first. Great. 

The remaining hour passed incredibly slowly. Eli was less focused on his work than he was his anxieties about so many people seeing his work. Granted, they had no reason to think it was his, but it was still  _ out there _ for people to see, to comment on. Another reason to be grateful that he never bothered to sign his work. A frown tugged at his brow as he considered what Thrawn’s reaction would be. He felt like he was oddly betraying the man, who had referred to the ‘mystery’ artist as  _ their _ mystery artist, who had waited until Eli was there to open the next painting from Cheno. He should call Faro and ask for her to take the paintings down. He should --

“Breathe, Vanto.” Faro sat in the chair next to his. “You looked like you were gonna collapse.”

Eli managed to shoot her a look, not trusting himself to speak.

“I know we aren’t that close, but I’d like to know what’s wrong. Is it about the art?”

Eli began a nod, shook his head, then nodded again. 

“Okay, you do know that it’s only you and me who know they’re yours, right?” 

Eli bit the inside of his cheek. “I guess.” 

Faro fought the urge to rest her hand on his shoulder, knowing that would draw attention Eli didn’t need right now.

“Is it because they’re visible?”

“Sort of. I think. I don’t know,” he huffed, knee resuming its bouncing.

“Thrawn’ll go nuts.”

Eli groaned, forehead indelicately colliding with his desk. Faro almost laughed, but she sensed that wouldn’t be welcome. 

“No seriously, maybe he’ll even leave his office from time to time. I’ll just tell him Cheno donated them.”

“You do realise he’ll check with Cheno, right?”

“Already covered,” she held up her datapad, a conversation with Cheno pulled up on a private messaging platform. “So, want to go visit the new lounge area with me? Shift’s over in two minutes, anyway.”

Eli mumbled something into his desk, but followed Faro anyway.

  


To Eli’s relief, those in the lounge were much more interested in the chairs and caf available that only few of them were looking in the directions of the paintings. They added to the ambience of the room, but didn’t demand attention. He busied his hands by getting him and Faro caf, he kept his black, adding the requested cream to Faro’s.

Some people had already settled into the space, datapads open and propped on their laps as they worked.

“This was a good idea, Commodore.” Eli said, content to people-watch.

“Thanks, Vanto. I usually get tired of only working at my desk or in my office, and it seems to bolster productivity on other ships. I just decided to one-up the rest of the Empire, and add comfort to it.”

“A good call,” Thrawn said, materialising next to them. Eli almost jumped, but practice with Thrawn’s antics trained him to stay still.

“Good to see you, Admiral. I trust this is to your liking?”

“It is most satisfactory. I see that you have been in contact with Cheno?” he indicated the paintings around the room.

“Yes. I told him my plans, and he donated these. Don’t know why, but he was insistent.”

Eli kept his gaze away from them, holding the caf close to his face, hoping the heat from it would hide the warmth on his face. 

“He had provided me with two such pieces. I did not know that he had so many.”

“Apparently he’s drowning in them. I just asked for ‘art’, and got these. It’s the same artist, right?”

Thrawn hummed, his own caf in his hand, eyes locked somewhere in front of him. 

“Well, I should go catch up with the other two, see how they’re doing. This one seems to be doing well. Still need art for those two, though.”

Eli shot her a desperate glance, catching her mischievous smile as she left the two men alone. 

Eli had to mentally shake himself when he noticed Thrawn was talking.

“Sorry sir, what was that?”

“I was noting that it was a good decision to have these pieces up. They wouldn’t have enough attention in my office.”

Eli nodded, sipping his caf. He didn’t know what to say to that, so he waited for Thrawn to continue.

“When I saw these, I was surprised.”

“As was I.”

Thrawn smiled minutely at that, but Eli wasn’t looking at him, content to let the Chiss be a presence over his shoulder. 

“I guess our mystery artist is now everyone’s.”

Eli looked up out of the corner of his eye. “Are you upset?” he half-mumbled.

“Not as much as I thought I would be. I forgot not everyone appreciates art as I do. I would be appreciative if you would humour me in analysing this piece here,” he motioned with his cup, “I enjoy your input.”

Eli took a large sip out of his caf to disguise the heat from his face. He nodded, and followed Thrawn over to the painting he had hung hours ago. 

“I confess, I do not recognise the landscape.”

Eli’s eyebrows shot up. “I believe it’s Alderaan, sir.”

Thrawn hummed, stepping closer to it. “Have you been to Alderaan, Vanto?”

“I can’t say I have, sir. But the landscape is very unique, I’ve seen holophotos.”

They stood in silence for some time, each man in his own head, but enjoying the company. Eli could almost pretend that nobody else was there, let the background fade into shades of warm greys and light browns. The quiet moment seemed to erode at the butterflies in his stomach. He felt himself becoming more relaxed, the tension he had piling up for hours dissipating. His eyes got caught a short distance in front of him, thinking without any tangible thoughts. He was pulled from his musings when he felt a light poke at his shoulder.

“You seem distracted.”

“Sorry, sir. Still a bit tired, I guess.” well, it wasn’t a  _ whole _ lie. 

“No need to apologise. I was merely asking if you’d like to continue our analysis in my office, where we may speak freely.”

Eli felt his face grow warm, but the short-circuiting of his brain didn’t warn him enough to use the caf as a distraction. “I, uh, wouldn’t want to fall asleep on you again, sir.” He laughed, but it was more to lighten the tension he felt than to convey amusement at the half-hearted joke.

“I didn’t mind.” Thrawn said quietly, eyes less sharp in their gaze.

“Really, I should,” Eli stammered, “I should try to sleep. But, thank you.” 

He prepared to leave, but paused when he caught sight of Thrawn’s deflated posture.

“I appreciate your offer. A lot.” 

Thrawn’s eyes met his, and he nodded, a gentle incline of his chin. The Chiss turned back to the painting, caf moving towards his face, but he didn’t finish the action. Eli pushed down the sense of what he thought was guilt, and walked quickly from the room.

  


Faro found Thrawn where she had last seen him with Vanto a quarter of an hour ago. He was still holding his caf in relatively the same spot, eyes out of focus. She excused herself from her conversation with another bridge officer, and crossed the room to where the admiral stood. 

“You look like you could use a drink.” she stated, frowning at her empty caf.

When Thrawn didn’t respond other than his lips tightening, she rolled her eyes. “That bad, huh? C’mon, I’ve got something strong.”

Thrawn nodded sharply, before he reached for her empty cup, disposing of both at the nearest receptacle. 

They remained silent in their walk to Faro’s office, which wasn’t far from the lounge at all, walking side by side, rather than Faro slightly behind Thrawn. She sat behind her desk, Thrawn claiming one of the chairs on the visitor’s side. She unlocked the drawer underneath the desk, and pulled out a decanter filled with a light blue alcohol, followed by two short tumblers. Faro decided that starting with two fingers of the brandy was enough, and she’d feel less guilty about the inevitable second glass. Thrawn accepted the proffered drink wordlessly, and swirled the glass, sniffing curiously at the liquid. 

“Corellian?” 

“You know it.” Faro sighed, taking a sip straight away, not bothering with the inspection Thrawn was giving it. 

“It is pleasantly strong.”

“Now you’re just stalling.” Faro narrowed her eyes, drinking again. 

Thrawn sighed, resting the glass against his knee, thumb tracing the grooves in the crystal. “My attempts at conversation have been… less than productive.”

“Did you  _ try _ to talk to him?”

“I did talk to him.”

“Talking with him about art doesn’t count, Thrawn. Sure, it’s nice and all, but if you’re trying to get him to look at you even a fraction of the way you look at him? You’ll need to show him that you’re interested in  _ him, _ not just art.”

“I invited him to my office this evening-” he protested, but stopped as Faro raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“You do understand that his lack of sleep makes it difficult for him to accept invitations like that, right? Humans need  _ sleep, _ Thrawn. Even if he tries to pretend he doesn’t. Hell, especially when he tries to pretend he doesn’t.”

“I indicated that it would not be bothersome should he feel the need to fall asleep again.”

Faro nearly slammed her head against the desk then and there.  _ I indicated that it would not be bothersome should he feel the need to fall asleep again,  _ she mouthed his statement, trying to see if it would be any less dense if she said it herself. Predictably, it wasn’t. And there wasn’t nearly enough brandy left for her to deal with this. She tossed back the rest of her drink, and poured enough into her glass that it nearly overflowed. She noted Thrawn’s raised eyebrows.

“This is you,” she pointed at the glass. “This is all on you. You’re going to owe me  _ so _ much alcohol after this.” Faro sighed.

“Hells, Thrawn, I’m trying to tell you that you should try to  _ flirt _ with him. Perhaps, even do so with human customs. Or Chiss. Whichever, whatever. But if I have to see you moping about my bridge like a mynock in a grain field for another week, I’m going to talk to him for you. And you’ll have  _ no _ input on what I’ll say then. Clear?”

“Yes, Commodore.” Thrawn smiled into his glass, not doubting her resolve to that threat in the slightest. 

  


* * *

  


Eli practically had to sedate himself to get to sleep. He had spent the hour after he left the lounge trying to make sense of his conversation with Thrawn. If it was a conversation at all. 

From early childhood, growing up with the stories of the Chiss on Lyastra, he had associated blue with the wondrous intrigue of the stories. Blue had coloured his musings on the myths as he grew, and had faded to the background when he threw himself into maths, data analysis, and shipping logs. When he had met Thrawn, the colour had returned, becoming less the colour of mystery than a colour of familiarity, of trust and mutual understandings. After their ambush at the Academy, it slinked its way into his comforting brown tones. Yet, this had happened so naturally that he couldn’t pinpoint where his intrigue stopped and the companionship started. It just inexplicably  _ was _ now. 

He still couldn’t make sense of Thrawn’s behaviour towards him now. Before, Thrawn was much less direct in his attentiveness to Eli’s wellbeing, the occasional ration bar set on his desk, a reminder before meetings started. Maybe he was just being paranoid and grasping at straws. Just because Thrawn brought him a caf didn’t mean much, he knew he had looked near-dead with exhaustion. The invitation over for the new art piece Cheno had sent him was just because he was likely the only other person to have commented on the other painting. And, the invitation for tonight was probably just to have someone to talk at until they fell asleep on his shoulder. He winced thinking about it. It wasn’t his fault Thrawn had a pleasing voice. He just… drifted off. Because he didn’t stop talking. That’s it. Not because he felt  _ safe _ around him or anything. He was just tired. He probably would have done the same to Faro. 

_ You know that’s not true, _ the shut-away part of his brain supplied helpfully. That’s when he took the sleeping pills and set his alarms before letting himself relax, thanking himself for remembering to mute his devices.

  


_ You have one (1) unread message. _

_ Received Message: ADM Thrawn - “I apologise for overstepping earlier. It was not my intention to make you uncomfortable. I wish to reacquaint myself with you, not just talk about art.” _

_ You have two (2) unread messages. _

_ Received Message: ADM Thrawn - “Faro told me to tell you that.” _

_ You have three (3) unread messages. _

_ Received Message: ADM Thrawn - “Faro told me not to tell you she told me to tell you that.” _

_ This Message was unsent by the sender, and cannot be previewed. _

_ This Message was unsent by the sender, and cannot be previewed. _

_ You have one (1) unread message. _

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is another short one! but i have yet again extended the fic!

“Shh!” Faro hissed, swiping the datapad out of Thrawn’s hands, the man feebly chasing after the confiscated item. “You can’t message him  _ that! _ That’s bad,” she hiccoughed, “and  _ no.” _

Faro rolled her eyes, unsending the final message Thrawn had left for Eli. Hopefully, he was asleep, and would wake with far less of a headache than Thrawn was bound to wake up with. 

“What was wrong with  _ my _ message? You said it was  _ fine,”  _ Thrawn muttered, brows knit. Faro looked up at him, her eyes wide with understanding.

“Oh kriff. Thrawn, you’re drunk.”

“I am not.”

“Really? Then what are you.”

“I am  _ intoxicated.” _

Faro barked a laugh, which grew when she caught sight of the pout on his face. 

“Go to bed, Admiral, before I haul you out of here myself.”

“Insubordination.”

“Realistic.”

“Mutiny.” Thrawn huffed, standing, only wobbling a little bit. He mumbled something in a language Faro wasn’t familiar with, but she guessed it was Cheunh. If she kept up rolling her eyes like this, they’d end up on the floor. Taking pity, she revised his message to Vanto, before completely rewording it and hitting send. Thrawn could deal with the rest from here.

“Scoot.” she deadpanned, only half-considering taking a mop from a supply closet to use should he prove to be more troublesome. Thrawn relented, allowing himself to be herded out of her office, datapad in hand. 

He was going to owe her  _ so much _ brandy.

* * *

Eli woke early, nearly five hours before his shift. Normally, he would prefer to wake with only two hours to spare, but he was awake now. No point trying to change that. His hands were itching for his brushes, bleary eyes narrowing in on a half-painted canvas, before drifting to an empty one near it. 

After a quick trip to the ‘fresher, he settled down at his desk, gathering his paints to him, preparing his workspace. He glanced once more at the timepiece on his desk, knowing that if he didn’t set an alarm he would paint through his shift. His datapad, as routine, had enough notifications on it that he didn’t bother to read them yet. Instead, he made the alarm half an hour earlier than planned, and decided to look through them then. More times than not, they were all routine information reports.

None of the colours immediately spoke to him when he gazed at them, so he looked away from them. When he opened his eyes, he snatched the first one he saw, uncapped it, and set to work.

His weeks had been growing increasingly odd. And he’d like to blame it on Cheno. 

He had a nice routine going for him: duties around whichever ship he was currently stationed at, acting as an outlet for Thrawn’s one-sided art monologues and brainstorms, and finishing the day by painting something and selling it. It was grey, but it was safe. Now? He felt dizzy, like a sunset in a blender, never sure what the next day would bring. Oh, and he’d like to blame Faro, too. But mostly Cheno. Thrawn was getting a bit too attached to Eli’s paintings, even though the man showed no signs of suspecting that it was Eli who made them. And now that other members of the crew had undoubtedly seen them, if he  _ did _ decide to come forward, it wouldn’t be the same. He groaned, and nearly missed sticking his bony elbow into the paint. 

But, some part of him didn’t  _ hate _ it. The new dynamic between he and Thrawn was intriguing. Even if it seemed like Cheno and Faro were pushing it, he couldn’t make himself resent them for it. Being so indirectly the object of Thrawn’s attention… 

He looked up at his alarm, attempting to see how long he had left to paint. Two minutes. Brilliant. He might as well clean up now, before he got too lost in his own head. 

Brushes cleaned, paint put away, he finally looked at what his hands had been working on. The landscape was vaguely familiar: shades of blues and cool browns being the majority of it. Small flowers decorating rolling hills, the faintest hint of red sunlight over the peaks of distant mountains. Someone was sat under a tree, another next to him. Weird, he didn’t usually paint people when he wasn’t trying to. They looked familiar. 

His eyebrows attempted to flee into his hairline when he realised he had unconsciously inserted Thrawn into his painting. And not just Thrawn, but himself, right by his side. Like he so frequently was. Backing away from the canvas, it was glaringly obvious that his thoughts had been on the Chiss: so many of the elements in it were reminiscent of him, as if Thrawn was haunting the painting, ghostly fingers slipped into Eli’s brain. He felt warm. 

An incredibly cold shower later, Eli was back at his desk, frowning at the offending canvas laying there. As he toweled off the ends of his hair, attempting to push it into a passively-controlled state, he made the mistake of opening his datapad. 

There were the usual reports, a few messages from his subordinates, asking advice or requesting assistance with particularly tricky datatrends. There were a few unsent messages, which was regular: many people started to ask him for help, but when they resolved it on their own, they unsent the message, so it wouldn’t look like they had needed help. A message stood out to him: an unread, personal, message from Thrawn. 

_ Received Message: ADM Thrawn - “You intrigue me, Lieutenant Vanto.” _

He stared at the message, trying to make sense of it. Was Thrawn suspicious of him? Did Thrawn think Eli knew something about the ‘mystery’ artist? Maybe it was his abrupt exit last night. 

Kriff. If he wanted to have more than just a caf, he should have left two minutes ago. How long had he just been standing there?

Something told him that today wasn’t going to go by quickly -- in any sense of the word. But, that was a Later-Eli problem. The Now-Eli problem was his lack of caf. And how, and  _ if, _ he should respond to Thrawn’s cryptic message. It had been sent at fairly late in the night cycle, so he assumed it must have been sent accidentally. 

But, that begs the question of  _ why _ Thrawn would be sending him messages late at night… Maybe he was still awake, and bored. That’s it. Must be it. He didn’t have the time for this. 

He tried to act normally during his shift, he really did. Faro acted as if nothing had happened yesterday, her eyes lingering on him as he had grown used to. It was as if she was seeing through him. He found it disconcerting. He wanted to avoid talking to Thrawn, but that wasn’t possible without raising suspicions. The message from earlier, combined with his accidental painting, made him want to distance himself from Thrawn until he had a chance to figure things out. 

After he was dismissed for the day, he figured he could use a change of pace, so he headed to one of the rec rooms and activated a training droid. He went through his basic formations first, but he wasn’t tired enough after half an hour, so he kicked it up a notch. He set the droid to run through the common tactics used by smugglers and pirates when they didn’t have blasters on them. He needed to work on his close-quarters fighting. 

He circled the droid, watching as it took a few swings, which he evaded with ease. Like the program he had set intended, the droid was relying on blunt force rather than agility, seeking to knock him down rather than outlast him. He had knocked the droid down six times within twenty minutes when he began to question why he thought this was a good idea in the first place. The patterns were too simple, he picked them up too quickly. 

“Is this a bad time?”

Eli, in his surprise, left himself open enough for the droid to knock him flat on his back. Hadn’t he closed the door?

“Um… not anymore, I guess.” he reached up and flicked off the droid, allowing Thrawn to pull him to his feet.

“How can I help you, sir?” Eli said, rubbing his hands on his sides to wipe off the sweat. 

“I was passing by, and saw you were also here--”

“My apologies, I could have sworn I closed the door.” 

Thrawn blinked, face tighter than it had been.

“It… was. Would you, if you’re comfortable, want to spar?”

Eli’s eyebrows crept up, it had been years since they’d sparred. And, Thrawn had overridden his door controls just to ask him. Which was a bit weird, but then again it was  _ Thrawn, _ and Eli should stopped being surprised.

“Um. Sure. Do you need to,” he gestured loosely at Thrawn’s uniform, “change first?”

“I am fine like this.” Thrawn unsealed his jacket, pulling it over his shoulders, leaving himself in his undershirt tucked into his trousers to match Eli. The human lifted the droid and set it to the side. 

“Shall we?” Thrawn invited, stance relaxed but no less at the ready.

“When you’re ready.” Eli said, casual tone throwing Thrawn slightly off-balance.

Thrawn had won the first three rounds, the first time by sweeping Eli’s feet from beneath him, the next two by catching him off-balance. By the fourth time, Eli was flat on his back, Thrawn standing over him, eyes glinting. 

“Bastard,” Eli wheezed, eyes squeezing shut as he waited for the room to stop spinning.

“Are you alright?” 

Eli waved him off. “Yeah just need a minute.”

“You are bleeding.”

Eli frowned. “What? Where?”

Thrawn gestured to his own forehead, Eli mirroring his gesture. Turns out, he  _ wasn’t  _ bleeding, but there was dried paint on his forehead. How long had it been there? Why had nobody said anything? Ah, his hair normally covered that area. He rubbed at it, feeling the paint break up under his finger, then he pressed his hand to his forehead, wincing as his brain pulsed uncomfortably.

“Prolly just a scab. But thanks.” he took Thrawn’s extended hand, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. “Woah--” Eli’s vision swam, a wave of dizziness hitting him. He instinctively reached out for purchase, hand grabbing Thrawn’s bicep.

“Eli?” Thrawn said quietly, holding the man steady. 

“‘M fine. Dizzy.” 

“I do apologise if I have caused you any harm.” Eli started to laugh before he winced.

“Hit the ground one too many times, I think. It’ll pass.”

“May I at least walk you back to your quarters, so that I can be sure you aren’t injured?”

His head did hurt like hell. It would be nice to know he wouldn’t accidentally end up face-first on the floor for anybody to stumble on. Maybe, just maybe, Thrawn was asking him, indirectly, if he wouldn’t mind his company. He didn’t hate the idea, though his quarters weren’t exactly guest-ready… 

Kriff. The painting. The  _ paint. _

“Um, thank you, sir, but… my quarters are a mess, and I should probably swing by the medbay to pick up a painkiller for my head.”

Thrawn nodded, looking away from him. Eli realised he was still clinging to Thrawn, which didn’t help his case. He unwrapped his fingers from the man’s arm, noting with slight embarrassment that he had been gripping him rather tightly, the blue skin brighter for half a second in the shape of his hand. As he tried to step away, his head gave another uncomfortable throb, and he fell back into Thrawn. 

“I have painkillers in my office, if you would wish to avoid a trip to the medbay.” Thrawn’s voice reverberated through his chest and into Eli’s shoulder. Eli sighed. 

“Okay, yeah… sure.” 

Thrawn held out his elbow for Eli to take, but Eli waved him away once again. The Chiss collected their jackets, and politely looked away when Eli practically fell over trying to get his boots on while standing. They didn’t talk as they walked together through the halls, except for the occasional half-conversation when Eli would start drifting sideways or seemed to lose balance. On their arrival, Thrawn helped Eli down onto the settee, before disappearing into his quarters for medical supplies. 

Eli scanned the room, assuring himself that everything was as it had been, no more surprise paintings. But, he couldn’t find the second one Cheno had given Thrawn, the one Thrawn had waited for Eli to be there to open. Something twisted in Eli’s gut.  _ He hates it. He sees the other ones in the lounge and thought they were better. He knows it’s you and wants nothing to do with you -- _

“Eli?”

The human looked up, expression reminding Thrawn of a wounded animal. He seemed to notice this, and within a heartbeat, his neutral façade was back. Thrawn held up the bottle, offering the man a glass of water. Eli accepted them silently, throwing back two pills before chasing them with water. 

Thrawn set the bottle on the floor in front of the settee, before kneeling to face Eli, their faces more or less on the same level. He extended a hesitant hand, before holding Eli’s face in both of his palms. The Chiss leaned in slightly, scanning his face. 

“Thrawn?” Eli whispered, eyebrows knit, eyes wide. Thrawn turned his face slightly, eyes trained on Eli’s, though the human was looking everywhere but into Thrawn’s eyes.

“Can you look at me, Eli?” Thrawn murmured, thumbs tracing his cheekbones. He noted that the human’s temperature was a bit higher than it had been, particularly on his cheeks. When he finally did meet his eyes, Thrawn felt the light brush of the man’s eyelashes against his thumb. He hadn’t appreciated the complexity of the brown eyes before, how they seemed more gold at the edges of the iris just before it met the sclera. He couldn’t recall ever being this close to Eli in the years he had known him -- in the years he had wanted to, more than anything.

When he looked into Eli’s pupils, he noted the slightest dilation. This could be a reaction to the difference in the directness of his own gaze, aware that his eyes cast a red glow more visible in shadows. Hesitantly, he shifted his hand, so that he held Eli’s cheek in one hand, and cupped his jaw in the other. The man’s breathing altered its rhythm then. His pulse picked up, but not at the levels Thrawn knew would indicate alarm. He almost seemed… curious. He hoped that it was so. 

He felt a tentative hand rest on his forearm, not discouraging the contact, but also not deepening it. He wanted to close the distance between them, as he had dreamed of doing so many times before. But he wasn’t sure. He didn’t want to make Eli uncomfortable.  _ Eli. _ The freedom of using his first name in his own mind was exhilarating. It was better when he could say it aloud. He liked how it fit across his lips. 

“Eli, I…” the hand on his forearm shifted, so that brown fingers came to rest between blue as they held Thrawn’s hand to Eli’s face. They pushed lightly. Thrawn’s last coherent thought was  _ ‘to hell with it’. _ He leaned in, forehead nearly touching Eli’s --

_ Beep beep. _

Thrawn’s breath caught in frustration. Eli’s hand had fallen from his.

“You should get that, it’s probably important.” he said softly. 

“It’s not,” Thrawn protested quietly, trying to salvage what he could. 

“It’s Yularen,” Eli sighed, eyes flicking over to the message identification on the datapad. Reluctantly, Thrawn’s eyes opened, not strong enough to meet the eyes he felt on him. He sank back on his heels, letting his hands fall from Eli’s face. 

“You are not concussed,” he mumbled, picking up the datapad.  _ Incoming Transmission Request: Col. Yularen. _ “Forgive me.” he added in a whisper, using all of his strength to tear himself away, and to stand up, to face away from the man on his settee, from the moment they almost had. He slipped his jacket back on, sealing it neatly, before pressing a button on his desk.

“This is Admiral Thrawn of  _ ISD Chimera.” _

Eli recognised the bite to his tone as Thrawn answered the call, an almost imperceptible sharpness in his cadence. He stood and left quietly while Thrawn’s back was to him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the vibes have been so good lately i almost don't care that the depression is slinking back 
> 
> also this one was shorter because i'm reviewing how i wanted The Reveal to go, and i'm enjoying emotionally tormenting these beautiful idiots  
> let me know what you think !! comments make me soo happy


	4. Chapter 4

Vanto had been missing for two days when Faro decided to override his door controls and begin to investigate. Sure enough, there was nothing to indicate a struggle. Eli Vanto had vanished. 

She made her way to his desk, which still had a canvas on it, as if he was planning to return soon from whatever it was that he had left for. It was already prepped and had light blue and bronze -- splotches? -- decorating the centre. Faro leaned down, and under the desk was a short stack of finished paintings, perhaps seven. She lifted those carefully, and slipped them into the black bag she had brought with her. If he was alive, which she hoped he was, she would return them to him. If not… she would keep them safe. Either way, she had to tell Cheno. But then again, rumours traveled fast. He probably already knew. 

Her continued search yielded three more paintings, and a box of paint supplies. Something tugged at her chest when she had finished. It didn’t feel right, Vanto not being here. Thrawn was able to play it off, but she knew he was hurting. As she turned to leave, something caught her eye. It was a small trinket of some sorts, it looked sentimental. She wanted to take that, too, but she was here for the paint, and it wouldn’t be incriminating if it were found. Shouldering the bag, she locked the door, and headed for her quarters. 

When she returned, she deadlocked the door. Not even an override from Thrawn could open it. She opened a cabinet near her bed, and slipped the box of paint supplies inside. Next, were the paintings. As they went into the drawer, she scanned them, trying to see if they had any clues. But, she wasn’t nearly as adept with such insight as Vanto or Thrawn were. Mostly, she looked at them to remind herself of the man, Thrawn’s years of moping had made her also hold Vanto in high regard, without the romantic overtones. One painting made her stop. This one had a lot of blue in it, and red behind mountains. The only two people in it were unmistakably Thrawn and Vanto. Her heart sank. Poor Thrawn… 

“Get it together, Karyn,” she chided herself.

She removed one painting from the pile, a landscape under a starry sky. She couldn’t name the planet it was on, but it was beautiful, the sky taking up a good seven eighths of the canvas. She slipped it into another box, the size fitting perfectly, as Vanto tended to only use one size of canvas. After making sure that all of the other paintings and supplies were safely locked into the cabinet, she picked up the box, and left her quarters. 

She made her way down the hall, passing the lounge, which was doing  _ incredibly _ well, and buzzed an entry request at Thrawn’s office.

Almost immediately, she was let in. Thrawn was seated behind his desk, examining something on his monitor.

“Sir? A delivery from Cheno.”

“I wasn’t aware you had become a courier.”

“Ha-ha. No, this was sent to me, but I thought you’d make better use of it.”

Thrawn looked away from the monitor, and when his eyes landed on the package, he rose and made his way to Faro.

“Is it another painting?”

“Yeah, this one’s pretty nice. Do you want to open it?”

Thrawn remained silent, eyes trained on the box, as if it were about to do something dangerous. 

“Look,” she continued, voice softer, “I know you’d wanna wait for Vanto, but I’m pretty sure he would want you to open it.”

Thrawn frowned, meeting Faro’s eyes. 

“It’s art, Thrawn. You love art. He knows it, I know it, hell, the whole Empire knows it by now.”

Thrawn nodded, eyes returning to the box. He held out his hands, and Faro gave him the box. To her, it had an odd sense of finality to it. 

“Should I leave you alone?” when Thrawn made no move to open the box, she took that as a ‘yes’.

“I’m sorry about Vanto.” she said, lingering in the doorway. She couldn’t see so much as she knew that his mouth had tightened. 

She still wanted to slap Yularen. If for nothing else than how much of her brandy Thrawn had when he told her about his interruption. The man, normally so careful with his facial expressions, even when inebriated, was taut with agitation. She had never seen him like that before, and she hadn’t seen it since. 

The rumours about Vanto were as varied as they were wildly inaccurate. She hoped that it wasn’t because of Thrawn that he left, but there were many stories there of how Thrawn had him killed after Bantonn, how Thrawn had decided to leave him stranded somewhere. Worse, were the rumours that he had defected, that he was a traitor. 

Nothing could have prepared Faro for the sight of one Eli Vanto in a Chiss uniform. 

Other than that, she was grateful he was alive. 

She had pulled Thrawn aside as soon as she could, and glared up at him.

“You sent him to your  _ people?” _ she hissed.

“It was to keep him safe.”

“To keep him _ safe, _ wow. Okay, so we’re going to ignore the speculations about his disappearance? About how  _ you _ killed him?”

“Those claims were false, as you can see.”

“Thrawn, you can’t just-- I was so worried about you!”

“About me?” he frowned, glancing around the empty conference room.

“No, about the other lovesick Chiss Admiral moping the halls of the  _ Chimera. _ Yes, you.” she took a steadying breath, “What are you going to do now?”

“Continue the mission as planned.”

“I don’t know how my hair isn’t white dealing with you. I deserve a medal.” she groaned, “Will you at least  _ talk _ to him now?”

“I bid him a good day.”

Faro put her head in her hands, wanting to block out everything. The people who praised Thrawn’s military brilliance had very little idea how socially inept he was at times. She wagged a finger at him, truly at a loss for words. Making a noise halfway between a sigh and a groan, she turned on her heel and went to check in on the bridge.

Thrawn frowned as he received a message from Faro not even a minute after she left.

_ Received Message: Cmdre KFaro - “Show him your paintings. The new ones. I’m sure he’ll like them.” _

_ Sent Message: ADM Thrawn - “I have not opened them.” _

_ Received Message: Cmdre KFaro - “... what.” _

_ Sent Message: ADM Thrawn - “Please refer to my prior message.” _

_ Received Message: Cmdre KFaro - “are you fucking kidding me?” _

_ Received Message: Cmdre KFaro - “don’t answer that.” _

_ Received Message: Cmdre KFaro - “go open your damn paintings then. With or without him.” _

_ Received Message: Cmdre KFaro - “‘art enthusiast’ my ass.” _

_ Sent Message: ADM Thrawn - “the profanity is hardly necessary.” _

_ Received Message: Cmdre KFaro - “is absolutely fucking is.” _

Thrawn sighed, and went to go find Eli.

* * *

Eli wasn’t pleased. 

He had been away from Thrawn, with no contact, for nearing a year, and all he got was  _ “good day, Lieutenant Vanto”? _

He was feeling petty beyond belief. Which is why he pulled Admiral Ar’alani aside after Thrawn walked off with Faro.

“If you ever see Thrawn’s office,” he had switched to Cheunh to avoid prying ears, “please, do  _ not _ mention the paintings.”

“Why would I mention your paintings?” she whispered back, looking no less regal as she leaned down slightly to hear him.

“He has some in his office. But, he doesn’t know they’re mine.”

Ar’alani’s eyes widened with interest, a smile forming at the edge of her mouth. “He doesn’t?”

“No, and I would like to keep it that way.”

“Were you not eager to see him?” she stated, accusatory eyebrow lifting.

“I  _ was,” _ Eli hissed defensively, “but I decided I’d rather not tell him. Admiral, please.”

“You have my word, Ivant. I will enjoy my tour of his gallery.” she smirked. Eli groaned, but thanked her all the same. 

Thrawn was frustratingly professional with him. Eli was more than a little disappointed that whatever had happened between them shortly before he left for the Ascendancy seemed to have fizzled out. He had been hoping to get a moment alone with Thrawn, to tell him that he felt the same. It seemed that it wasn’t the case anymore. 

Living with the Chiss was a little frustrating at times, but it was the thought of Thrawn having trusted him enough to send him there that kept Eli going. There were nights, usually after stressful days, that Eli wondered if Thrawn had sent him away because he wanted a good reason to go no-contact with him. He would play the memory of what he thought was their almost-kiss over in his mind again and again. The extended time away from Thrawn had helped him get his emotions sorted out. He missed the man dearly, and it stung just a bit how everyone around Eli carried a slight resemblance to Thrawn. 

So, he took up painting again. 

He had brought a small range of paints with him, as well as three canvases, when he left for the Ascendancy. Now that he didn’t have to be intentionally vague in his scenes, he started to put his memories onto canvas. The first one was Lyastra, his childhood house just visible behind a hill, tucked into the corner. He had always loved the light when the sun was just beginning to set, and how the hills would become noisy with nocturnal insects chirping. The grass, a healthy brown colour, had been his refuge when he was smaller. It was tall enough he could pretend to hide, a benefit of his then-wiry frame. The colour had ingrained itself as ‘safety’ to him over the years, sticking even when he left Lyastra for Myomar, then Coruscant.

His secret had been exposed when one of the smaller Navigators had come up to him, fixing herself to his side. 

“You paint,” she said plainly, “Chiss also paint. Not all, though.”

“I-- yes. I paint.”

“May I see?” she gazed up at him, bright red eyes made rounder by her slight pout. Eli sighed, looking up. She knew it was a cheap move, and that the man would fold. He smiled, shaking his head.

“After I finish this, is that okay?” she smiled, nodding enthusiastically.

And after that, she knew, then the other Navigators knew, then Ar’alani knew, and Eli stopped caring who knew after that. He would restock on canvases when they were planetside, and he smiled when he learned that he could still find acrylic paint knee-deep in Chiss space.

He had the time to get better at portraits, and he gifted the finished ones to the Navigators he had painted. Some of the benefits of a quasi-photographic memory.

Eli and Ar’alani had become good enough friends that he didn’t feel like he was overstepping when he presented her with her portrait. Her smile had been borderline-beaming when she saw it, and Eli knew his face was probably on fire in the infrared. That was the first time Ar’alani had invited him for an after-shift drink, and it became a regular occurrence after that. Never enough to get tipsy, but enough to relax and enjoy good conversation. Ar’alani warming up to him had done wonders for his sense of belonging, and he stopped thinking that Thrawn sent him away because he couldn’t deal with him. The  _ Steadfast _ became his home.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t missing Thrawn’s company every other waking moment. 

He had been so elated when he learned he would be seeing Thrawn again. Eli could even push away the anxiety of a reunion because it was  _ Thrawn _ and it had been  _ months. _ But, all he got was  _ “Good day, Lieutenant Vanto.” _ No ‘it’s good to see you’, no trace of what they had been before he left was there. Eli was more than a little murderous, but he wasn’t about to deck his former Commanding Officer, his former… whatever, in front of their crews.

Instead of at least getting a handshake, Eli got a pompous blond  _ Assistant Director _ that Thrawn had decided needed to join the Ascendancy. He was, without a doubt, the most irritating person Eli had come across in the known galaxy. However, he did enjoy that Ronan only spoke basic. It royally irked the man when everyone around him was speaking another language. But even then, the man  _ refused _ to stop talking. He had time before their shuttle was to take off, so he chatted with Faro and Ar’alani as Ronan moped in the corner.

“I cannot believe Thrawn’s nerve this time. I do not want that arrogant  _ thing _ on my ship. Or anywhere near Chiss space.” Ar’alani’s Sy Bisti held a light musicality that carried over from her Cheunh. 

“I agree,” Eli replied, eyeing the blond out of the corner of his eye, “I don’t see how he can be of any use.”

“At least I’m rid of him,” Faro beamed, catching Ar’alani’s frown.

“I am more than willing to trade you for him. Name the person, I will gladly--” Ar’alani stopped, looking behind Eli.

“Lieutenant Vanto?” 

“Admiral Thrawn.” Eli said flatly, not turning around, eyes still trained on Ronan. The women gave him some space, continuing their conversing in Sy Bisti. 

“May I have a moment of your time?”

“Besides this one? Sure, I’ve got two hours. Are there any  _ reports _ you want me to look over?”

“No, this is a… personal matter. I received another painting from Cheno, shortly after you left-” Eli’s breath caught in his throat, “-and I wanted to wait to open it until you were present.”

Eli turned his head to face Thrawn, his prepared retorts once again useless. 

“If, that is, you were amenable…” Thrawn trailed off, meeting Eli’s eyes. If he didn’t know any better, he would say the Chiss almost looked nervous.

“Sure,” Eli almost whispered, “that would be… nice.”

Thrawn inclined his head, before motioning for Eli to follow him. They fell into step as they walked through the hangar, then the hallways. 

“I hate him.” Eli broke the silence.

“I can understand the feeling.”

“You do realise he makes me look bad, yes?” Thrawn let out a breathy laugh. “I’m serious! It took me  _ months _ to earn the Chiss’s respect. And don’t tell me they’re not going to compare me to him, because that would be  _ banthashit--” _

“They will compare him to you, and they will see tenfold your competence and your belonging there.”

“…thanks. I’m really not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult.”

“I intended it to be a compliment,” Thrawn mumbled, eyes on the indicator near the door to the lift. It flashed green, and they stepped out.

“So… you’re complimenting me, by sending the most incompetent oaf the Empire had to offer… gee, I really feel appreciated.” Eli said, dryly. Thrawn smiled, glancing at the man in his periphery.

Interestingly enough, the lock to Thrawn’s office was a keypad, the deadlock having been initiated. Perhaps it was to make sure Ronan wouldn’t go snooping. 

Eli watched as Thrawn’s fingers deftly entered the combination. To anyone else, it might just seem like a string of numbers, but to Eli… 

“Is that the date the Empire found you?” he asked in Cheunh, not wanting to have a passerby learn the combination.

Thrawn shrugged.  _ Something like that. _ He stood aside, letting Eli enter the office first.

It hadn’t changed much in the months since Eli had seen it. The first of his paintings that Thrawn had acquired was hung where it had been, but a small light had been fixed above it, ensuring that it wouldn’t be obscured by any fleeting shadows. Some other works were on display, but none as professionally as Eli’s. The style on these pieces was interesting, very contemporary. Was that… spray paint?

“Courtesy of one Sabine Wren. One of the Rebel insurgents from Lothal that Pryce has me keeping an eye on.” Eli huffed a laugh.

“Pryce has you keeping an eye on the art, or did you take it upon yourself to do so?”

“I expanded on her directive.”

Eli smiled. He turned from the decorated concrete slab he had been looking at, seeing Thrawn lifting a box from behind his desk. He walked over to Eli, stopping when he stood next to Eli’s shoulder, eyes still on the box. Thrawn looked up, quirking an eyebrow in a silent question. Eli nodded, eyes on Thrawn’s hands. 

When the Chiss made a move to open the box, Eli quickly rested his hand on the box, stalling Thrawn’s movements.

“Why, why did you wait?” Eli asked, not looking up.

“I wanted to.”

“Besides that,” the human huffed.

“I didn’t want to open it without you. It would have felt… odd.”

_ Odd. _ That word was certainly fitting, Eli thought. 

“‘Odd’”? He parroted, trying to get Thrawn to expand on it. Thrawn shrugged.

“Opening it without you present would seem ignorant.”

Eli stopped breathing. “Ignorant?”

“You were there when I opened the second one, you were the only person to comment on the first-” Eli sighed in relief, “-and I admire this artist’s style quite a bit. I believe… I waited for you to open it, because I wanted to believe that I would see you again.” Thrawn finished softly, eyes returning to where their hands almost touched on the lid of the box.

“You sent me away thinking that you wouldn’t see me again?” Eli whispered, ducking his head so that he could see Thrawn’s face. The Chiss’s face tightened.

“I wasn’t sure that I would.” 

Eli closed his eyes, uncertainty flooding his system. 

“Well then.” he stated quietly. He didn’t know what to do now. Thrawn really  _ had _ sent him away thinking, like Eli had so frequently, that they wouldn’t see one another again. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” Thrawn said, drawing Eli out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, me too.” Eli took his hand off of the box, and motioned for Thrawn to continue. He bit back a smile when he noticed the fine layer of dust on the cover. When Thrawn finally lifted the painting from the box, Eli had that familiar tightness in his chest as he watched the man’s face. The tense expression melted away, red eyes growing softer, glowing more brightly. He couldn’t bring it in him to look down to see what painting Thrawn had acquired. Eli was too busy trying to commit every stitch of the man’s face to memory, he didn’t want to lose the way his entire being lit up in this moment. He wanted to keep this memory. Even if he knew that his effort to save this moment would only make him feel worse in the moment. He hoped that he wasn’t imagining the way Thrawn had looked at him when they were alone. 

“This was worth the wait,” Thrawn murmured, seemingly to himself. Eli glanced down. It wasn’t one of his favourites, but he had spent time on it. A simple skyscape, stars dominating the scene. He had been thinking of Thrawn when he painted it. Not that it narrowed down the timeframe. Thrawn was becoming a frequent companion in Eli’s subconscious, more so now that he was away from Eli. 

Half of him wanted to reach out, but he was afraid this would all vanish if he did. Too many nights went sleepless because he was worried that he’d see Thrawn in his dreams, and decide to never leave. The other half was terrified to reach out, finding sanity in staying as still as he could. Time was fractured now, and if he moved in the slightest, it would shatter. 

“That, uh, part of the sky there,” Eli pointed to the area on the painting, “kinda matches you.”

Thrawn looked at him sideways, then hovered his hand above the area, smiling faintly. 

“Interesting observation, Eli.”

The human felt his heart flutter, it had been months since he had heard his name spoken like that, in the peculiar way Thrawn spoke it, like it was a word not to be used lightly, reserved for quiet moments. 

“Are you unwell?” Thrawn said, looking at Eli from underneath a worried brow. 

“What?”

“Your temperature rose sharply. Do you need anything?”

“What, Thrawn - no, I’m fine. It happens.”

“You are sure?”

“Yes, shush.” Eli took the painting into his own hands to hinder any more comments on the topic. “The sky looks kinda lonely, you think?”

“A common theme in this artist’s work, it is evident in the Coruscanti street scene, and it is in many of the landscapes. They seem to convey that the artist is surrounded by beings, yet on a fundamentally different level, feels isolated.”

“Alienated, even,” Eli added, smiling at his own comment.

“Yes, alienated.” Thrawn said, a breath of a laugh clinging to his words. 

It was funny that the themes Thrawn had picked up on from that painting mirrored how he commonly felt being around the Chiss on the  _ Steadfast. _ Thrawn was blue, but the other Chiss were purple to him. The familiarity to Thrawn, in small ways, offering him a sense of safety, but he did not feel at ease with them as he did in this moment. He had missed Thrawn’s blue, but being here now made something in his heart turn to ash. He’d be leaving soon. Probably for the last time. 

“Your temperature changed again.”

“You are the  _ only _ Chiss I’ve met that actively comments on it, you know that?” Eli sighed, returning the painting to Thrawn’s extended hand. 

“Are you sure you are not ill?”

“Now you’re just being obtuse,” Eli rolled his eyes, “we both know you’re trying to get me to answer something you haven’t asked. Spare me the game. We don’t have forever.” he added quietly. 

Thrawn remained silent. He only broke it when he walked over to his desk to set the painting down, lingering there, his back to the human. His voice was carefully neutral. 

“I have been in love with you, Eli.”

“I know, Thrawn,” his heart was pounding in his ears, it was a wonder Thrawn couldn’t hear it. Could he?

“And I am uncertain if you feel the same,” Thrawn’s voice was pitched differently than usual, full of an emotion Eli couldn’t see. 

“I think I’m getting there.” Eli whispered. 

Thrawn’s shoulders slumped, his arms seeming to support his weight as he sagged towards the desk. 

“Thrawn?”

Eli reached out, but brought his hand back to his side. If he reached out, it would stop feeling like he was in free fall. But it would only make hitting the ground that much harder. 

He didn’t notice that his feet had been moving until he was three steps away from the man. The thought on his mind when he rested his hand on Thrawn’s shoulder was that he had to hit the ground some time. 

Thrawn’s hand covered his, and Eli threaded their fingers together. The golden feeling that had been bubbling in his chest turned into a wave as it washed over him. Thrawn’s hand was cool against his, but not unpleasantly so. Eli squeezed lightly. 

“I know-- I know I can’t ask you to come with me. But, I want to ask you to come back to me. Doesn’t have to be tomorrow, just… find your way back to me?”

“I will,” Thrawn murmured, squeezing back. 

Eli drew his hand back, before crossing around Thrawn to perch on the edge of his desk, hands resting on Thrawn’s shoulders. The faint red glow from his eyes made his eyelashes purple, casting delicate shadows on his cheeks as he kept his gaze trained on the floor. Eli ducked his head, catching Thrawn’s eye. His chest tightened when he saw the glossiness of them, something he hadn’t seen before outside of the teary-eyed exhaustion of the Chiss Navigators after a long shift. He drew Thrawn to him, cradling his head against his chest, knowing that the sentiment of the gesture outweighed the awkward position Thrawn’s back was in. Eli rested his chin on Thrawn’s head, arms circling his back. He would refuse to admit that he was nearly brought to the brink of tears when Thrawn’s arms settled around his torso, clinging to him. 

“I need you to come back to me,” Eli repeated, kissing the crown of Thrawn’s head as his comm’s gentle  _ ping _ let him know it was time for him to leave.

His breathing almost stopped when the landing ramp on the shuttle closed, blocking out the view of Thrawn and Faro in the hangar bay. 

_ “I promise,” _ was what Thrawn had said. 

And by hell, was he going to keep that promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next is the epilogue 😊  
> i'd love to hear what you guys have to say!!   
> kisses!  
> xo spiders xo


	5. epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> most of this takes place on Csilla, which I have never been to, so please excuse if this is different from how you percieve it x

He sat with Faro and Ar’alani in an outdoor café on Csilla. They had made it a weekly occurrence, and it was one of the few things that kept Eli from working himself to death. 

When Faro had found her way to the Unknown Regions after the destruction of the  _ Death Star, _ Eli and Ar’alani were conveniently on a sweep of the sector, looking for traces of Thrawn or the  _ Chimera.  _ Apparently, Faro and Ar’alani had set up an encrypted long-range communications system, so Ar’alani knew where Faro would be. The two had proved to be inseparable, and equally matched in their scathing wit and insight. 

Their house had slowly filled with paintings from Eli, landscapes from Csilla and other worlds in Chiss Space along with the systems that Eli and Faro had known most of their lives. After that, one of Ar’alani’s friends in one of the eight families had been commissioning Eli via Ar’alani, apparently he was ‘shy’ around others. Eli could understand that, and he didn’t mind much that the elusive man had over thirty of Eli’s paintings at this point. The café they frequented had two in the main seating area, and they seemed to find their ways into several buildings over the two years he had been living on Csilla. Even  _ Ronan _ had commissioned Eli at some point early on in their move to Csilla.

At first, living on Csilla had felt wrong to Eli. Like he shouldn’t be here without Thrawn. Ronan and Faro seemed to effortlessly fit into life planetside in Chiss space. At least he had his circle of people he could count on. Somehow, he had even managed to make peace with Ronan. They tolerated each other, but there was the shared experience of once having seen the Empire as the apex of their lives that lingered as a bitter aftertaste in the mouth. That didn’t stop Eli from feeling oddly left behind. 

Ronan was currently on his honeymoon, the wedding ceremony was unusually subdued, not that Eli was complaining. And just like that, Eli was back to feeling stranded. The pitying looks he received from others when the  _ Chimera _ was reported as missing had faded, but it was the bantha in the room whenever Eli was left alone with coworkers. 

It was comforting to sit with Ar’alani and Faro -  _ Karyn _ \- in the café. Even if he didn’t talk very much, just being around people was nice. The Navigators he had been working with would be returning soon, so he had that to look forward to. 

After he got home, he let himself go on autopilot as his legs walked him around the house, opening curtains and turning on lights. He always ended up in front of a canvas, and he usually fell asleep at his desk. Tonight was no exception.

* * *

“So… what now?”

“If it would occur to you that your  _ silence _ for the time being would be welcome, that is what should happen now.”

“Ouch,” Ezra laughed, “Y’know, being stuck with you for two years now certainly has its perks. Now? I don’t give a flying-”

“Bridger.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he held his hands up, sighing dramatically as he turned his back to Thrawn. They had been bouncing around through space for a few days, finally having secured a shuttle that would take them away from Batuu, where the  _ Chimera’s _ crew had disbanded after hearing of the destruction of the  _ Death Star _ months into their being stranded and badly damaged after Lothal.

“So…” Ezra ventured, “you never answered my question.”

Thrawn sighed, not moving his eyes from the console. “There have been quite a lot of questions I have elected to ignore from you. Of which one are you referring to?”

“You being force sensitive.”

Thrawn’s hands stilled. “I do not know what you’re talking about.”

“Krayt spit.”

A small smile crept unbidden onto Thrawn’s lips, memories of a different human, many years ago with the same words.

“I am not force sensitive.”

“Maybe not  _ now, _ but I could feel it. When the purrgil took us into the edge of known space.”

Thrawn resumed his calculations, frustration creeping into the back of his throat at what he would have to ask of the human soon. “I was a Navigator.” he answered finally.

Ezra went quiet, but it didn’t last long. “Is that supposed to mean something?”

“Chiss are… different.”

“Wow. Never woulda guessed that. Thanks for the  _ enlightening _ observation, buddy.”

“Some of us are what you call ‘force-sensitive’ when young, but this fades with time. Most Navigators are between the ages of seven and fourteen, but there have been exceptions to this.”

“Navigators… as in, instead of NaviComputers?” Thrawn nodded.

“Wait, I -- I’m lost. You’ve lost me.”

“I am impressed it took this long.”

“Shove it, oldie. You don’t have to explain it now, but is that why the purrgil left us near Batuu? That’s close to where you come from, right?”

“It could be.”

“Do you think they caught on to your repressed feelings and that’s why they steered us towards where you were wanting to go?”

“I had no desire to return to Csilla then.”

“Nah, but I’m pretty sure that person you’re hung up on is there. What’s their name?”

He stopped pressing when he received a tired red glare, instead opting to busy himself with tinkering at the ancient hyperdrive.

“If they’re really important to you, I think you might’ve accidentally influenced the purrgil. I told them to  _ go _ but you gave the idea -- destination -- I think.”

“And this is coming up now, why?” Thrawn said through gritted teeth.

“Curious.”

“I am not convinced.” Thrawn sat back on his heels, pressing his forehead to the console in a rare outward display of frustration. 

“Fine… Fine. You made sure you had a few things before the  _ Chimera… _ uh, before we got out. The paintings seemed more sentimental. Like, I know you have a datapad with your collection on it, but you  _ brought _ these three. Whoever they are, they’re very talented. I think. I don’t ‘art’ like you do.”

“The paintings were not his.”

“Ooh so it’s a  _ him-” _

“You are an adult, please endeavour to act like one.”

“I  _ knew  _ it.”

“Bridger.” he bit warningly.

“Whatever. When I find Sabine, she owes me  _ so many _ credits.”

They fell into silence for a few blissful seconds, before the gentle sounds of the Jedi’s mumbled cursing at the ship and the intermittent sighs from both men got to Thrawn’s last nerve for the cycle.

“What do you know about piloting, Bridger?”

“I am  _ not _ doing that again. Ever.” Ezra groaned, spinning around in his chair. The viewport provided a sight of a beautiful planet Thrawn hadn’t thought he would have the privilege of seeing again. With their remaining fuel levels, it would be at least an hour until they got close enough to start preparing to enter atmo. 

“I am  _ exhausted. _ I have no idea how you could do that for  _ years _ because - wow that sucked. I’m gonna go lay down in a corner and rethink my life choices.”

“I hope that proves useful.”

“Unlikely! But we’ll try. Good luck on your calls, kid.” the younger clapped Thrawn’s shoulder as he stumbled sluggishly out of the cockpit.

“I am twenty standard years older than you are,” Thrawn muttered, shooting a glare at the human’s back.

It was no simple feat getting ahold of the Ascendancy, but he managed. And, the person to pick up just  _ had _ to be the last person he wanted to speak to.

“Mitth’ras’safis,” Thrawn greeted, tone carefully neutral.

“Thrawn.” the man’s arms were crossed, eyes narrowed. Thrawn was at a loss for a response, he had been prepared for a lecture or an outburst, but all he got was an annoyingly familiar wall.

Their conversation was tense, but Thrass relented, allowing Thrawn and Ezra rooms in the Mitth household, and protection until Thrawn’s hearing could be scheduled. Thrass was less than amused at another prospective human addition to the Ascendancy, but Thrawn’s assurances that Ezra wouldn’t be staying long satisfied him for the time being. Thrass explained that their rooms were ready, but he wouldn’t be there to greet him personally for a day, at the least.

He had never thought he would walk these halls again. His heart lurched in his chest, but it wasn’t from homesickness. The planet was as beautiful as he remembered, but it didn’t feel like home anymore. He trailed his hand along the wall as he reminisced, eyes tracing the room he hadn’t occupied for well over a decade. It was relatively undisturbed, but clean, as if maintained regularly. Thrawn wasn’t sure how he felt about that, if it was an act of mockery, or if it were a tribute to his absence. He was dislodged from his musings as a head poked around his doorway.

“How’s the homecoming?” Bridger chirped, seemingly hanging sideways from the wall outside his rooms. Thrawn neglected to answer that.

“That weird, huh? I haven’t seen a  _ bed _ like this in… years. It’s all soft, and not built into a wall-”

“What do you want?”

“I’m bored.”

“You’re… bored?” Thrawn parroted, eyes narrowed. The human was  _ definitely _ up to something.

“I tried to snoop around but everything looks the same. ‘Cept the art, that’s different enough I found my way back.”

“That must be my fault, I encouraged Mitth’ras’safis to branch out with an assortment of artists.”

Ezra hummed in acknowledgement. 

“I think some of them look familiar, but that could just be because I’ve been stuck with you.”

Thrawn scoffed. “Unlikely.”

“No, really!” Ezra protested, “I mean it! There’s stuff from the artists you seem to like, and some I  _ cannot _ make sense of, but it’s extensive.”

“Many are from family members, prominent Chiss figures, or famous artists from Wild Space that have been here for generations.”

“So not just family?” he ventured, tilting his head as if looking to the ceiling. He stood up and leaned against the door.

“I didn’t know your guy was a Chiss. You two must’ve been close, his stuff is everywhere.”

“He’s not, he’s-” he broke off, missing a breath as something struck him.  _ Surely it can’t be that… could it?  _

“What?” he whispered, turning to face the man.

“Uh, you’re being weird. But, his paintings are  _ really _ good, and they’re all over.”

“Show me,” Thrawn implored, eyes wide, head pounding.

Ezra continued talking as he lead Thrawn across the hall to his room, but Thrawn couldn’t hear his words over the commotion of his mind.

Thoughts of  _ it can’t be _ and  _ of course _ swirled around his skull, tearing him one way then another as they fought for attention. His mind reeled, scrambling as he sought to pick out every moment with him he had saved away in memory. 

The late nights that left circular bruises under his eyes, the understanding of the paintings. The recognition of places from the smallest details. The paintings that had stopped when he sent him away. The way that the man smelled faintly of acrylic, something Thrawn had noted but never sought an explanation for besides it being an undertone of a product of some sorts. His reluctance to go into the  _ Chimera’s _ lounge when it was up. The way that the human had reacted to the painting that Thrawn had saved, for months, to open with him. The lack of a signature, almost strategic.

Ezra pointed up at two paintings that were hung near one another on the far wall of his room, perpendicular to the window, so as to save them from sun damage. 

Seeing them now through this lens… it made perfect sense. Because there,  _ right there, _ was the view from their window at the Royal Imperial Academy, down to the garden some floors below them, the courtyard that was perpetually empty save for demonstration purposes in the distance. There were pink and purple undertones, clinging to the shadows of trees and in the buildings, giving the view a feel of something out of a dream, something not quite welcoming yet not imposing all the same. And  _ there… _ that was the planet he had been stranded on, his campsite, where Eli and he had met for the first time. There were no people there, but it was peaceful, if lonely. 

“What are you doing?” Ezra drawled, following Thrawn around as the Chiss gingerly lifted the paintings from the walls and set them in a stack in his opposite arm. There were two others in the room, one in the adjoining refresher, and another just outside the suite Ezra was using. 

Thrawn deposited these carefully in his room, spreading them out on the floor in a semicircular pattern, the three he brought with him joining them. He strode swiftly out of the room, scouring the manor for others. Ezra had picked up on what he had set his mind to, and started collecting the paintings as well, surprisingly gentle with how he handled them. Thrawn didn’t have the willpower to comment on it, he was so fixated on finding all that he could, all the traces of Eli, the side of him he never  _ noticed, _ never knew, and gathering them to himself. He had collected thirty five, leaving him with thirty eight spread on the floor of his room, and he sat down in the middle of them, pulling the closest one into his lap. 

Ezra didn’t know what Thrawn was doing, but he knew it was important. The force around them had thickened with alarm and anticipation, longing and sorrow, when he told Thrawn about the artwork. Did Thrawn not know that his person was an artist? It surprised him, because Thrawn was scarily perceptive,  _ annoyingly  _ so. He hadn’t seen the man shut down on himself like this before either. He hadn’t left his room for hours. The hours turned into days. Ezra met Thrass, who was apparently related to Thrawn. He hadn’t imagined Thrawn having a family, for some reason, but he couldn’t deny the similarities between the men. Thrass wasn’t terribly concerned with how Thrawn was acting, even seeming restrained in wanting to speak to him, citing that he “didn’t want to impose” on Thrawn when he was like this. He figured that the two had spoken since Thrass’s arrival, or return, because Thrawn had still been getting food somehow, and Ezra hadn’t seen anybody else around. 

“Hey… uh, it’s me,” Ezra leaned against the door to Thrawn’s room, “you good?”

He let himself in when he didn’t hear anything for a minute. Thrawn was  _ exactly _ as he left him three days ago, the only difference being that the paintings were all mapped out differently, like a story, around the room. 

“I should have known. I  _ must _ have known. How wouldn’t I have known?” Thrawn muttered, eyes staring blankly at the spread before him. 

“Even  _ you _ gotta be wrong some times. It happens. Remember when-”

“Yes, but not like this.  _ Not _ over something like this.”

Ezra’s lips folded into a line. He sank down to sit next to Thrawn.

“Do you feel like you missed something? Wait, no, stupid question, duh. Do you… feel betrayed?” Ezra winced at the last word, it sounding a bit dramatic to him.

“No. Yes. I am… conflicted.”

“Never woulda guessed.” Ezra prepared to poke his tongue out at the inevitable glare, but when Thrawn didn’t respond, he decided for a different approach.

“Are you mad at him?”

“No.” the answer was immediate.

“Disappointed?”

“Never.”

“Oh-kay. Uh… are you mad at yourself?”

Silence.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Y’know… some people are just good at hiding things. Or, sometimes we just aren’t meant to notice everything right away. Even if we’re freaky smart strategic geniuses. Just think… if you had known earlier, would there be this many paintings? I’m not trying to pretend I know jack-shit about the situation, but sometimes people knowing about things makes it harder to enjoy them, I guess?”

Thrawn nodded, less tense as he mulled over the words. 

* * *

Eli had fallen asleep at his desk. Again. 

Yesterday he had spent time with the Navigators, who were excited to speak with him in the limited Basic he had been teaching them. The delight on their faces was almost contagious, but the ever-present pit in his stomach served as a deterrent. There was a smile on his face, but it was fleeting. They seemed to have been buzzing with an energy he couldn’t name, sharing glances with one another when they thought he wasn’t paying attention. 

He felt like he was on the outside of a joke, but he couldn’t bring himself to care very much. Ronan was back, so it could be that. The Navigators found him amusing, often flocking around the blond whenever they could, poking at him, asking questions. Eli had been a bit jealous at first, but the blanket of grey that had settled around his shoulders years ago made it bother him less. It was probably just because Ronan was new, and he had a peculiar sense of style that often involved capes.

He had been given time off from the project he was working on, so he had barely left his house save for the meetings with Ar’alani and Karyn. They were worried about him, but that wasn’t new. He didn’t want to drag down their mood with his never-ending heartache. So it was in paint that he found refuge from his sorrows. 

Groaning softly at the tightness in his shoulders and back, he stood up and stretched, yawning. He should probably go check in with Karyn on their renovations, not that their house needed any. But Ar’alani had wanted a new room, and Karyn wanted taller windows, so their house was a bit of a wreck at present. Every morning or so, he would walk over and help with moving things around. It gave him something else to do. He had barely knocked when the door swung open.

“You look like shit.”   
“Thanks, Karyn, it’s good to see you too.” he rolled his eyes, stepping around her to help Ar’alani with carrying a few boxes. 

“Don’t look at me like that! I’m being honest!” Karyn protested, hands up in mock surrender.

“You could have been  _ gentler _ about it,” Ar’alani bit back at the other woman. “Ivant, you look like shit this morning.”

“Thanks, Admiral.”

Turns out that they didn’t need much help that day, since the restorations were almost done and they just needed to move whatever needed into the new room. Eli didn’t mind that the two women were whispering almost the entire time, he mostly didn’t hear it.

“There’s someone asking about you,” Ar’alani said, reaching an arm above Karyn to retrieve the mug the human had been attempting to grab.

“Isn’t there always?” Eli huffed, the attempt at humour coming naturally. “Painting related, I assume?”

“Yes. They’re near the landing pad by the Mitth estate. You’ll know them when you see them. A human, if I heard correctly.”

“A human?” Eli blinked. 

“He seems to have… gotten lost.” Karyn smothered a laugh, swatting away Ar’alani’s attempts to stop her from pouring bourbon into the mug.

Eli sighed. If Ronan had brought back a stray… 

He tossed a farewell over his shoulder as he walked out, heading back to his house before he went to see what the mystery human wanted.

The last thing Eli expected was to see someone at his door, sitting patiently on his steps.

“Can I help you?” he ventured, unable to see their face from the angle of the shadows. They stood up, and Eli’s pace faltered, leaving him motionless in his garden.

“Eli?”

He hadn’t had this dream in weeks. It killed him when he had to wake up. 

He must be dreaming. This must be a dream.

“Hello Thrawn,” Eli cleared his throat, “It’s been a while.”

The man walked to meet Eli, stopping a few paces ahead of him in the garden.

“You look… different.” Eli managed, shoulders sagging as he accepted that this was another dream, another trick of the light. The aftermath of a long evening left alone with naught but his thoughts and his canvas.

“You look tired, Eli.” Thrawn whispered, looking the human over.

“Usually you would go with a more flattering adjective, but ‘tired’ will do.” Eli’s smile was wry, not reaching his eyes.

“‘Usually’?” Thrawn’s brows knit, head tilting to the side.

“We’ve gone through this before, I’m a bit too  _ tired _ to do it again.” Eli sighed, walking to his door, Thrawn moving out of the way. 

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“It’s whatever. Tea?” Eli called over his shoulder, leaving the door open, not waiting for an answer. 

He was busying himself with preparing two cups when his communicator chimed. 

“Ivant,” he answered, the device resting on the counter as he carried on.

_ “You doing okay?” _ Karyn responded, sounding worried.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Eli laughed quietly, picking up the cups.

_ “Just thought we’d ask. Tell Thrawn we say hi.” _

The communicator had turned off before the sound of the teacups hitting the tiled floor could reach Karyn and Ar’alani. He didn’t dare turn around.

It seemed like words were evading his every attempt to find them. His heart was pounding in his ears because there was  _ no way _ this wasn’t a trick. This was cruel. He was  _ gone, _ there was no reason for him to be standing  _ here, _ just outside his house on the man’s home planet where he had no business being. Because he couldn’t be  _ here _ with Eli. He was supposed to be dead,  _ gone, _ somewhere Eli couldn’t follow.

The hot liquid had splashed him during the impact, but he couldn’t bring himself to react. 

_ This is fake. This is fake. This can’t be real, it can’t-- _

“Eli? Are you alright?”

_ Don’t turn around, turn around and this will vanish. _

“Eli?” Thrawn leaned into his peripheral vision, worried expression barely visible behind his blurry eyes.

“You… you’re here?” Eli whispered, terror rising as his hopes did. 

“I’m here,” Thrawn murmured, taking Eli’s shaking hand into his. “I’m here.” he repeated, softer, carefully wrapping his arms around the shorter man’s shoulders. 

After a moment that seemed to stretch into an eternity, Eli snaked his arms around Thrawn’s waist, grabbing fistfulls of the man’s light jacket to keep his hands from shaking even harder. He let himself feel the man in his arms, against his chest. Every breath that pressed his chest into Eli, every small circle Thrawn drew on Eli’s shoulders with his thumb. Eli felt as though he had shattered beyond repair, a weight that had settled in him nearing two years ago finally letting itself thaw. He felt raw and exposed, the inhales brushing against the inside of his throat felt heavy, his face unbearably hot. Eli choked out a sob when Thrawn’s chin rested on the crown of his head, and he burrowed closer into Thrawn’s chest to accommodate the gesture. Thrawn’s chest vibrated with words Eli couldn’t hear, so he tired to adjust his head, lessening the pressure on his ear.

“What?” he sniffed, apologetic but not.

“You have paint in your hair,” Thrawn said quietly, shifting so that his cheek was pressed against the side of Eli’s head, his mouth closer to the man’s ear.

Despite the alarm bells ringing somewhere in Eli’s subconscious, all he could manage was a feeble “I’ve missed you” in response.

“I’ve thought of you every moment since,” Thrawn trailed off. Since when? Since what? It didn’t matter to him either way, because it was true. And suddenly Eli’s hands were on his face and dragging him down to press their lips together, a taste of salt from Eli’s tears mingling with the gesture. Thrawn felt like he was being remade. No words in any of the languages he knew could come close to describing it. He wasn’t perturbed when he noted that he had begun to cry somewhere during their embrace. Because he was  _ home. _ The homesickness wasn’t for Csilla at all. It was for Eli, as it always was. 

They broke apart but kept their foreheads touching. Thrawn’s eyes slipped closed again when he saw that the human’s eyes remained shut. 

“You are incredible Eli.” he whispered, the words ghosting over Eli’s lips as they were spoken.

“Shut up,” Eli laughed, grinning as Thrawn kissed him again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and thus concludes my first thranto fic!   
> hope you all enjoyed it :)  
> sending my love! 🖤💙✨


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